Scream therapy

Dear Son,

I love you.

I LOVE you.

I think you are bright and funny and silly and sweet.

I love you.

I wanted to get that out there, because lately I've been so frazzled that it may seem as if I don't really like you.

Last night, after you woke up at 11 p.m. and didn't settle down, I let you scream it out behind two closed doors: yours and mine. I couldn't go into your room to console you so afraid I was of my own rage.

I have a ton of excuses: I am working long hours without a clear schedule. I'm not sure what direction my formerly beloved industry is heading but I'm not so keen on the road map I've been given. I tell myself it's the uncertainty that is stressful but I'm not so sure I believe me.

My thyroid condition isn't under control at the moment, and quite possibly pressing a thumb to a scale already weighted toward depression. I hope new medication will help me put my head above water.

But those are just theories.

The fact that you woke up this morning happy to see me, as if the night before came wholesale from my imagination, was a gift I am likely to squander in the future when I am again at my weakest.

I don't expect you to judge me favorably for this trait, or the fact that I'm telling you I am likely to repeat it. I am human and fallible.

All I know is that I love you and your sister more than life itself, and the emotion in that is greater and scarier than anything I've ever felt in my years on this earth. It's something that I could only see as a cliche during the salad days, and so I know it won't mean much to you until you experience it for yourself.

Forever and until then ... I just wanted to tell you that I love you.


Love,

Mommy